


Ma

by murdergatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Accidental Sleepover, Besotted Hannibal, Cuddling, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Hannibal Loves Will, Infatuated Hannibal, M/M, Nuzzling is their thing, Post-Tome-wan, Pre-Mizumono, Sleepy Cuddles, Will Graham's Hair, nuzzling, playing with hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will accidently falls asleep on Hannibal's couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma

**Author's Note:**

> "Ma is a Japanese word which can be roughly translated as "gap", "space", or "pause.” It is best described as a consciousness of place- the simultaneous awareness of form and non-form deriving from an intensification of vision. It is the thing that takes place in the imagination of the human who experiences these elements."

The night was walking the bridge of early morning; when time could no longer be called PM but the sun still hid itself from the earth. Will had already been tired upon his arrival, but that hadn’t stopped him from having a glass of wine, or two, or three. By the fourth, he was grumbling about exhaustion, throwing that very word around, and how he shouldn’t have be driving. Hannibal had already told Will he could stay the night, to which he replied with a laugh, mentioning something about the dogs being fed. They both smiled. Hannibal hadn’t expected Will to fall asleep on the couch.

Will’s head fell back over the backboard, exposing his neck to the glow of the fire-lit room. Oranges and yellow brushed over his flesh just as feverishly as Hannibal’s fingertips longed to. He imagined what the tight skin of Will’s neck would feel like under his lips and he imagined what Will’s lips would feel like against his. Most of all, he imagined what it would be like to hold Will- to have Will be the only thing in his arms as if the two of them were all that mattered in the world.

Will was striking. Hannibal had always thought Will was something beautiful, but he had also very specifically remembered following that initial thought up with “ _What a waste._ ” He couldn’t imagine thinking that now, even with all of Will’s constant aggression and discourtesy…The beauty Hannibal saw in Will now was something unfathomable by any other flesh. Will _was_ beauty to Hannibal.

Hannibal found himself lost in the frequent want for there to be nothing else but them in the world- just the two of them and the rest of the existence. Hannibal was staring at his dreaming masterpiece, as he didn’t want to miss a thing. When Will’s eyes twitched abruptly under their lids he’d rub at them with a softly closed fist and sometimes his mouth fell open in a gentle, near silent, gasp for air as if he had been holding it in. He was so hypnotizing like this.

Hannibal had to force himself to pry away, to look at the fire and look at the walls. He had to distract himself from where his thoughts wanted to take him, and staring wasn’t going to help with that.

Other than the occasional shift and eye-rub, Will had remained still the entire night. This was probably why it shocked Hannibal to suddenly feel Will’s head pressed against his shoulder.

Hannibal’s body became ridged and tense the second the contact was made, an impulse that made him feel foolish and silly. The weight of Will’s warm cheek on the top of his shoulder and the feeling of his hair tickling at the side of his jaw, shocked him- very much like a volt of static charging through his bones, _shocked him_.

He knew, _he was certain_ , that there had to have been at least one time where Will had touched him before but, in that moment, Hannibal could not think of a single one. Will had never been the one to reach for him. It made the pressure even more so awe-inspiring.

Carefully, Hannibal maneuvered his arm so that it rested- outstretched- on the back of the couch where Will’s head had previously been. Will’s head fell into Hannibal’s chest. As if it were impulse, acting on pure muscle memory, Will’s body moved in closer to Hannibal’s. Their ribs pressed against each other through the fabric of their shirts, Will’s shoulder nudging between the couch and Hannibal’s back.

Hannibal looked down at the sleeping man on his chest and took a moment to adore the way his eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheekbones, and the way he could feel the steady rise of his chest against his own. His heartbeat was so calm, so relaxed.

His hair cast blue-grey spirals against his forehead from the light of the fireplace, and all Hannibal could find himself wanting to do was play with his hair. His fingers teased against the fibers of the couch, trying to keep them occupied while he thought of a reason not to.

He just wanted to feel the way Will’s hair would curl between his fingers, like vines. He wanted to feel the shell of Will’s ear under his thumb. He wanted to see what Will’s reaction would be.

He couldn’t think of a single reason not to.

Hannibal wrapped his arm on the couch around Will, gently stroking the side of his head. He tucked away a few curls that had gone rouge and independent. He took a moment to smell him, to breathe him in. The smell of Will that he had once been so mildly tormented by- the smell of dogs, cheap aftershave, and the simple chemistry of his sweat on his skin- was now something intoxicating and inviting. He wanted his things to smell like that, rooms of his house to smell like that- Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He continued to move his fingers rhythmically through Will’s hair until he felt him begin to stir.

Hannibal pulled his hand from Will with quickness, expecting Will to look up at him with furrowed brows before sitting back upright _. He’ll be more embarrassed about falling asleep on me_ , Hannibal thought. However, the seed of the fear-of-rejection was still present.

Will didn’t honestly wake up much, just opened his eyes long enough to understand what was going on. He didn’t look up at Hannibal and he didn’t pull away. His fatigued mind could really only gasp how warm the fire was, how comfy this couch was, and how wonderful it felt to have someone play with hair.

Instead of anything Hannibal expected, Will rolled his face back into Hannibal. He nuzzled into his chest and reached a hand up to rest on the opposite side. He hummed into Hannibal’s shirt.

“Don’t.” Will said, his voice drowsy, low, and soft. “That was nice, don’t stop.”

The feeling that accompanied those words, and Will’s actions, was akin to defeat. Hannibal didn’t feel like he’d lost anything, but by gaining this- this boy wrapped up under his arm- he felt like he was giving in to something. Will was so desperate to be held, so he held him.

Hannibal’s hand came back down to Will’s head, as requested, and resumed his brushing. This time he added a little more force to his fingertips, now unafraid of waking Will up and upsetting him. Will responded with another nuzzling movement of his face and a happy sigh.

Suddenly, Hannibal felt himself choking. Everything in that moment, everything about Will, was so devastatingly vibrant and stunning. Tears welled behind his eyes. He felt himself gasping for air, so completely overcharged and overwhelmed. Hannibal’s head fell back as if it were weighted to do so, resting in the same fashion that Will’s had earlier, just looking up at the ceiling and taking _it all_ in.

He was so far past love with not only Will, but this moment- this moment between moments where the silence of their breath was just as deafening as it was peaceful. He wanted to remember this, this wholeness, for the rest of his life: the color of the walls, the warmth from the fire, and the feel of Will’s face nuzzling into the solidity of his chest.

This moment in time was incomparable to anything Hannibal had ever felt. Breathtaking, earth shattering, and absolutely devastating. He thought of Will, singularly, and tried to apply those same words but Will was so _beyond_ that. He was beyond any word in Hannibal’s vocabulary; Seven languages under his belt and not a single word for Will Graham.

Moving cautiously again, Hannibal titled his head until he felt his cheek on the top of Will’s. He turned into him, returning Will’s nuzzle, and smelled him a second time. This time he took their closeness as an opportunity to press his lips into his hair, resting them on his scalp until he was ready to let them _not rest there_. The separation was painful but needed.

He returned his gaze upwards, as a tear rolled down his cheek and into his ear. He lowered his hand from Will’s hair to his shoulder. He squeezed and pulled Will into him, as far as their bodies would allow. Will responded by softly kneading his fingers into the place they rested on Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal almost vocally sobbed.  

In that brief glimpse of time, when night walked the bridge to morning, there was only Hannibal, Will, and the rest of the existence.

**Author's Note:**

> The other night I was very tired and had just finished watching Tome-wan. My girlfriend told me that, us "sleepy cannibal apologists" should get some rest, and my "sleepy cannibal apologist" brain read "cannibal husbands" instead. So here this beauty is, some sleepy cannibal husbands being cute and sleepy.
> 
> I imagine this taking place sometimes between Tome-wan and Mizumono, but doesn't have to strictly fit there.


End file.
